Thought of That
by M. the Inspector
Summary: Charles/Erik scenes.  Some First Class era, some later.  Most of them are innocent and not slash; the others have warnings.
1. Chapter 1

**Takes place during First Class, right after Erik has subdued Emma Frost.**

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><p>"There – and she won't go into her diamond form again. She's all yours." Erik turned his back, waving almost dismissively.<p>

Charles took a breath. But before he could focus his thoughts and invade her… there she was.

Her presence in his head was bright, sharp, almost painful. _So is this what you boys get up to once the lights go down? _

"What?" he hissed aloud. At Erik's startled glance he revised himself, and said the rest straight into her mind. _What are you talking about_?

_This. _She twisted her wrists against the metal that bound her. _A bit too quick with the bedposts, there. Don't tell me this was his first time._

"Oh, for-" He ran a hand through his hair and protested:_ Listen, I don't know what you're talking about. _But at that, she flooded his mind with images of leather-clad people brandishing whips, so he shook his head hard and clarified: _I mean, I __**understand**__ what you're talking about. __But it's not like that, him and me. Not at all. _

She smirked at him. _What a shame. He could probably show a straight-edge like you the time of your life._

Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by a loud snort. Erik. "Don't you think I've thought of that?"

Charles could feel his eyes rounding and his mouth falling open. "Did you just-…?"

Erik looked amused and almost pitying. "Charles, it's written all over your face."

He tried to close his mouth.

"The woman, if you please. Pay attention to the woman, Charles. Go on. Shush, come on…. Calm your mind…"

Erik wasn't very good at soothing, but still the reminder was enough. Charles relaxed, focused, and turned his attention back to their prisoner.

The force of her mental sneer gave him a headache. _I told you so._

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><p><strong>The End. <strong>

Let me know what you thought!


	2. Chapter 2

**Takes place during the first X-men movie – the scene right at the beginning where Charles calls after Erik in that white hallway and they have a "Don't give up on humans, Erik" / "Don't get in my way, Charles" conversation.**

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><p>Erik tapped himself on the head slowly. "Sneaking around in here again, Charles?" He could feel him spying, poking around, looking for something. The intrusion was much gentler and more refined than the telepathy Erik remembered; in the early days of helping Charles explore his gift he had endured splitting headaches every time Charles tried to dig beneath the surface.<p>

Curiosity and appreciation of skill kept him still a moment, but still this was intrusion. He felt an overpowering desire to turn the tables.

So, he spun on his heel and raised his arm, bringing Charles's wheelchair three feet up into the air.

"Stop," Charles gasped, clutching at his armrests with both hands. "My intentions were benign. I only w-"

"As are mine." Erik interrupted with a smile. "I will put you down unharmed, as soon as you're through."

He waited a moment, but the alien presence in his mind stayed right where it was. "Well?" he asked aloud, and tilted the chair carefully backwards until it was almost horizontal.

"Erik, if I withdraw in a panic I'll hurt you." Charles's voice was not quite steady, but it was a good effort. "Set me down so that I can do it more gently. Please. You've made your point."

Erik wanted to feel exasperated, but despite himself he was a little touched. He righted the chair and set it down slowly, grumbling, "For heaven's sake you know I can take it. And that this time I deserved it, for a change." He gave the chair one last meticulous twitch to set the wheels perfectly straight again.

Once on solid ground Charles relaxed and closed his eyes. His mental retreat was so smooth it was almost imperceptible, but afterwards he opened up to give a very piercing look. "And? A lot of people deserve a lot of things I'm not going to give them. It's not my place."

Charles sounded worse than a _professor _now; he had practically become a monk. Where was the man who had first pointed out that power over metal could be used to undo people's zippers and bra clasps? He sighed. "Your pacifism has become excessive, Charles."

Charles didn't give an inch. "It's a counterweight to the antagonism I see in others," he said, cool and stiff. "Which I'm afraid has also become excessive."

"_Others _meaning me?"

And his look of reproach had grown much more effective over the years. "Now who is asking questions to which he already knows the answer?"

As a telepath Charles could no doubt sense his forceful swell of disappointment and, yes, the beginnings of an anger brewing. But still Erik said: "Be well, old friend," before he left, and he hoped that Charles could tell he meant it.

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><p>The End.<p>

Thank you guys for all the positive feedback! These little scenes are fun to write, so if you have ideas for ones you'd like to see, let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Takes place at the end of X3, when Erik is sitting at the chess board.**

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><p>The little metal pawns and castles stared up at him. He had been trying to move them, for hours. He had tried so hard he was getting a headache, and still they wouldn't budge. His failure reminded him, inevitably, of that Coin, sitting so long ago on that Desk in that Office. He was failing now, as he had failed then, but this time no amount of rage or desperation would ever be enough to awaken his power. It was gone.<p>

_Erik?_

He hissed and looked around. "Charles?" It couldn't be.

_It is._

"How did you find me?"

A soft sadness washed over him. _I would know those thoughts anywhere. I see what's happened to you, old friend, and I'm sorry. What happened to me?_

Now he _knew _he wasn't imagining it; he would never have imagined Charles adrift and confused. "You were killed. Torn to pieces by Jean. I couldn't stop her. I tried."

_Yes._ A moment passed. _That much I remember. But nothing beyond it._

"Are you alive?"

_I don't know. I'm here, aren't I? Hm. Let me try to see. _Erik noticed a curious widening of his vision, as if he'd just shed blinders or sunglasses. He looked down his nose at the chessboard, and saw that several of the pieces had been dripped upon.

Apparently Charles saw too. _Erik, are you crying?_

After a clogged breath and a rough swipe over his cheek he didn't bother to deny it. "I'm just relieved. When she… Charles, it was the same thing all over again. Standing by and watching you destroyed is more painful than I can express."

Charles was quiet for a long time. At last he said, very gently: _I believe with all my heart that this was an accident – like the other. I don't blame you for either time. But Erik… I must tell you, I think **standing by and watching** is an overly generous description of the role you played._

He cleared his throat before speaking, but it didn't help much. "Charles, please."

_I want you to do something for me now: promise me that there will be no more mass murder. Commit yourself to peace._

"Mass murder?" He laughed, bitterly. "Perhaps you didn't get the memo. I've been crippled – _cured, _as they're calling it. I couldn't mass murder a potato."

Another long silence, so long that Erik thought perhaps Charles had gone. Just when he was about to get up and leave the table himself, an exasperated sigh echoed through his mind. _Erik, who did the first real work studying mutation among humans?_

"You did." Short and irritated, not really thinking.

Charles persisted: _And who might be able to learn everything there is to know about the drug which poisoned you, by reading right from the minds of its creators?_

Erik's stomach lurched. _Now _he got it. He couldn't even speak.

Fortunately speech had never been a requirement for conversing with Charles. _I don't know, Erik. But I would like to try._

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

Or is it? This one actually seems to lend itself to continuation. But I'm super busy right now and I'm afraid if I start writing it will become epically long. So, for now the plan is to resist…

Let me know what you think of this one! And thank you so much for your comments so far.


	4. Chapter 4

**Takes place during First Class, when they're all at the mansion practicing with their powers.**

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><p>Charles and Erik were standing and having a quiet drink together when all of a sudden, with no warning, Charles's belt unbuckled itself and attacked him.<p>

It moved fast; it had slithered through its loops and up his body before he even realized what was going on; he tried to grab it but before he could it had tightened itself around his neck.

"Erik what are you- _kkch_." It choked him so hard he couldn't speak, and he reached up to try and pry it loose with his hands.

"I have been practicing," Erik was saying calmly. He still held his drink in one hand; with his other he beckoned and the belt grew tighter still. "How about you? It seems that _everyone_ has been training, except you. Everyone has been expanding his powers, weaponizing his gifts… except you. Now it's your turn."

Charles managed to wedge his fingers in but still couldn't win much slack – Erik had a lot of strength, and was using it. He glared through watering eyes at the metal trim on his belt and cursed himself for wearing it.

A pen hit him in the nose and he flinched. "Your gift is not fantastic finger-strength," Erik reminded. "It is telepathy. Use it. Influence me to stop – if you can."

Charles was pulling hard for air and only managing the barest trickle. "I can't," he wheezed. "All right - wait." He stumbled to a chair and collapsed into it, trying to calm himself enough to work. He raised one hand to his temple, a gesture that usually helped him focus… but his head was buzzing and he couldn't breathe and all of a sudden a wave of primal panic swept him away. "_Erik_!" he rasped, giving up on telepathy and just clawing at the belt with both hands.

When he woke up he was lying flat on the couch. His belt was back in his pants, but now it was like having a snake sitting around his waist and so he yanked it off frantically and threw it across the room.

A chuckle from by the window. "Half of what you're wearing's got metal in it," Erik informed him. "Do you plan on stripping naked?"

"Go to hell." He touched his neck, almost panting with anger and remembered fear. "Erik, you choked me unconscious."

"Mm. Sorry about that; I really thought you'd come through at the last second. Are you all right?"

"I cannot believe you just did that."

Erik had not the slightest sympathy. "Your powers are not much good if you can only use them with your enemy's cooperation. You have to learn to work under stress, under surprise, fear, all kinds of physical and emotional conditions."

"All kinds of conditions," he repeated, still rubbing his neck. "So what next, you're going to attack me while I'm laughing?"

"Perhaps. Or when you're drunk or when you've just woken up. All kinds of conditions." He flicked his fingers, and in the silence of the room they could both hear a zipper opening.

"Erik!" He grabbed for his pants in panic and zipped them up again.

Erik took another sip of his drink. "All kinds."

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Like I said… almost innocent. Heh.**

**Actually, this one gave me an idea for one that is decidedly *not* innocent. It's not slash, though. It's just Erik by himself, experimenting with his powers. And, uh, the experiment goes somewhat awry...**

**Let me know what you think so far! I'm superduperdelighted when you post comments.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Again, takes place during First Class when they're living at the mansion. It's not slash, and it's not graphic, but it involves JERKING OFF. So, if for some reason that freaks you out or if you're too young to cope with masturbation (do they make people that young?), don't read it.**

**And for the record, I think this is absolutely something Erik would do. We already saw him gleefully trying to get shot in the head for the purpose of practicing & showing off; this is probably something he would think of and he would certainly try it once he did.**

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><p>From across the room Erik locked the door with a glance, then tried the doorknob. Locked, for sure. Good.<p>

He took a deep breath and _thought_ he was calm, but still, the moment he kicked off his underwear he had to slither underneath the covers. Just in case.

There – nobody could see him now. Nobody could _possibly _catch him doing what he was about to do.

Not that there was anything to be ashamed of or to feel silly about. It was a perfectly valid exercise; it was _important _to have control of your power under pressure – all kinds of pressure. It was conceivable someone might think to use a woman against him someday, and he would have to know that even in the throes of passion, he would still have control if he needed it.

The chain rose up off his nightstand easily and hovered over his lap. "After today, nobody is ever wearing you as a necklace again," he said to it. He lifted up the edge of the blanket with his hand so that it could slip inside, and then clasped his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes.

At first things went all right. He wound the necklace around himself without difficulty, shivering because it was just a little chilly. He'd have to figure out the heating of metal at some point; he was certain it was within his abilities.

"But not now," he amended. God help him if he overshot the mark and went to red-hot instead of toasty. He would learn heating another day.

For now he concentrated on the very fine movements needed to produce sensations he liked. It was easier to work with metal he could _see, _but still, once he closed his eyes and envisioned what the chain must look like coiled around his erection, he achieved a very acceptable degree of control.

A little faster, a little tighter, pulsing rhythmically. It was working, more than working. But then a particularly powerful wave of pleasure rolled over him and he arched and squirmed – and lost focus for a second. The chain started going slack. "No-" he complained aloud, and tried to fix it. It took a moment to marshal his concentration enough to get started again; frustration turned out to be a very serious obstacle.

It started going well again… but before too long the pleasure distracted him and he slipped up once more. By now he was so aroused that the interruption was a serious aggravation, and in consequence he couldn't steer the necklace at all; he tried to move it and it zipped around under the covers seemingly with a mind of its own. He almost started to use his hands – _almost. _

But that would be cheating, and it would defeat the purpose of the exercise. No. He grasped at the headboard of his bed and forbid himself to let go. To be certain, with a burst of power he warped the bars around his wrists, and now he wasn't going anywhere. "There," he panted aloud. "Now let's get back to it, shall we? Come on, Erik. Calm."

He was anything _but _calm, but once he closed his eyes and breathed deep he sensed the chain again and could move it. "Thank God." He neatly wound it where he needed it and then, exceptionally proud of his own discipline, got fancy and wrapped the last few inches of chain around his balls as well.

The careful massage _there _felt so good he moaned aloud. It was so good he might well _die _if he lost control and stopped now.

As if in response to that worry, his power pulsed a little stronger, giving him a squeeze that bordered on uncomfortable. "Whoa easy," he gasped at himself, and shifted.

Due to the headboard he couldn't move far, though, and the sudden feeling of vulnerability terrified him into pulsing again. Harder. The necklace pinched and he yelped… but he couldn't even reach down to fix it; he was completely physically stuck. Stuck, while his-

The realization of what an incredibly _bad _idea this was hit him all at once. He wanted out. Now.

"Stoppit stoppit all right stoppit I changed my mind," he muttered under his breath, and tried to unwind the chain from his privates. But he was in no state for fine manipulations at this point; what he did made it tighten instead, and he began to whimper and struggle. As if that would help.

It was painful and frightening, and in his distress he found himself starting to wreak havoc with all the metal in the room – things flew around, things bent and twisted and buckled under the pressure. The necklace was no exception. It was a vicious cycle; the more it hurt the more his power spilled free to twist it further, culminating at last in a surge that drew a full-throated scream as the chain clamped down. It was such agony he couldn't _think_, but out of nowhere came the memory of Charles laughing at his determination to practice their powers in every situation imaginable. _Well and what about under torture, Erik? Shall I have Hank build us a rack? A plastic one of course._

Not plastic here. He didn't dare try the chain now, but he turned his head to the side and through the chaos of flying objects managed to focus on the metal holding his wrist. It had warped so hard his bones were creaking (though he didn't feel that now; he had bigger problems), and he stared at it and threw all the power he could consciously muster. The bars positively _blew _open, and in an instant he'd repeated the move on his other hand.

He tore the blankets away. The chain was a mess, tangled and knotted and cutting into him, and he picked it at frantically with shaking fingers. Between the hideous pain, the flying paper clips that kept hitting him in the eye, and the sound of his own ragged breathing he wondered if he would succeed at all. But at last he found a loose end and began unraveling.

When he was done, coins were still skittering around the floor but he personally felt too worn-out to move. He looked back and discovered that the wrought iron of the headboard had become a sunburst of angry metal shards on each side. He had shattered it. Thank goodness in his panic he hadn't done the same to the necklace.

The sharp terrifying pains were over, but a low ache had settled into his groin and he suspected he would be living with it for a while. He curled up in a ball on the bed, cupping himself, and realized he was so bad off he didn't even have the heart to be angry at himself for his stupidity. Yet. But he suspected eventually he would.

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Again, thanks for the love and for the ideas! Possible scenes I might do in the future: the scene from First Class where Erik protects Charles as the plane is crashing, a scene where Erik needs Charles's help to sit still for the dentist, or a scene about Charles relying too much on telepathy instead of people skills. **

**Let me know what you think so far!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Takes place during First Class.**

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><p>There was a soft knock at the door, and Erik looked up from their game. <em>Who is it? <em>he asked with his eyebrows.

Charles closed his eyes. "It's Raven. Come in!"

The door opened, but Raven hesitated in the doorway. "Oh- Erik." She tucked hair behind her ear. "Hi."

After just a quick glance Erik looked back down to the chessboard again. "Hello, Raven. You're looking… dull."

Charles frowned at him in puzzlement, then looked back to Raven meaning to apologize for his friend's behavior.

But now she was blue. Grinning, ducking her head, and _blue. _"Better?" she asked, shyly.

Erik looked up again and his tone turned warm. "Much. Evening, my dear. Join us?"

Charles was missing something, and he _hated _missing something. So since Erik, unlike Raven, had not yet thought to extract a no-spying promise from him, he shoved in to figure out what was going on…

And what he saw blew his mind completely. They'd been _kissing. _The memory was of Raven blue, and naked, and Erik was kissing her full on the mouth. "Wuahgh!" He jumped up, covering his ears with both hands, and turned away.

Of course they both reacted to his strange behavior. Erik didn't get it. "Charles? What are you-?"

But Raven did. "You promised! You _promised_, you said you'd never-!"

"Ugh! Ach. I didn't. I didn't," he said loudly, trying to drown out the mental image he'd just acquired. "I didn't read yours, I read his, and God I wish I hadn't. Erik." He turned to him, squinting, still trying to put the picture away. "Erik, how could you?"

Raven _shrieked _with outrage, and only afterwards managed speech. "Shut up! Just because _you _don't want me doesn't mean nobody else would! I hate you!"

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door after her and then kicking it. Charles started to follow, but before he'd gotten two steps there was a hand on his collar. "What in God's name is the matter with you?" Erik snarled into his face. "She is a beautiful and unique young woman and what you've done to her makes me sick. _Sick._"

Charles took a peek into his mind, but when he encountered just blinding rage alongside half-formed images of Raven's scaly blue breasts, he had to retreat immediately. "I don't know what you think I did to Raven," he said at last, "But I promise you, you are wrong. I would never, _ever _hurt her. _You're _the one who-…" he winced, pulled free of Erik's strangling grip, and faced away from him. "Ugh. Really, Erik. Your best friend's baby sister? Are you out of your mind?"

A sharp intake of breath. "What? _That?_"

"What, what _that_?" Charles snapped, facing him again. "You knew we grew up together, she and I. You _know _that… ugh." He winced again as the picture returned. "That makes it _wrong, _Erik. Totally aside from the… aesthetic problems." He winced all over again.

"Aesthetic problems." But then Erik's eyebrows rose. "Do you really consider me your best friend? Charles, I'm touched."

Charles shrugged and smiled at him, a little shy.

Until out of nowhere a slap rocked him on his feet. "But you're also a fool, who's done damage to that girl you don't even understand. Stay away from her until I can put it right."

Charles brought a hand to his cheek and stared stupidly. "You hit me."

"I promise you needed it. It's what a best friend would do. Now, where is she?"

Whether he'd _needed _to be slapped was debatable, but it was true that someone had to go pacify Raven and it should not be him. So he nodded. "Try the library, behind the armchair near the south windows. She curls up there on the floor when she's upset."

"Thanks." Erik patted him as he walked by, and halfway down the corridor called over his shoulder: "And I really am touched!"

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Okay, tomorrow's scene will probably be a meeting/fallingout that Erik and Charles have sometime between First Class and X1. And then comes either the plane scene or the dentist thing.**

**And, as always: comments really fuel me, so let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Takes place sometime in the years between First Class and X1, somewhere on neutral ground.**

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><p>"Hello, Charles."<p>

"Hello, Erik. I'm glad to see you. Though the fact that you won't take off your helmet suggests I shouldn't be."

"Oh – just habit, sorry." Erik slid it off smoothly and set it down on the table, narrowed his eyes a moment and then smiled. "I've missed this," he realized aloud. "You creeping around inside my head."

Charles's gaze was sharp and appraising. "I watch the news. There have been break-ins. Disappearances." He touched his temple and cocked his head, their old signal. _May I dig?_

"There's no need," Erik answered aloud. "Of course I'm behind it. I keep tabs on their politicians, and when one frightens me badly enough, I handle him. I admit that freely – I'm not ashamed."

"If that's how you feel, then we really don't have much to talk about. Why did you want to see me?"

Erik stiffened but proceeded anyway. "I just wanted to warn you that your school's days of peace may be numbered. I found out they're nosing around, Charles. Into your tax records, staff's immigration papers, they've even gotten the damned zoning board involved. Everything. People know what you are, and they're looking for a legal way to shut you down."

Charles smiled easily. "I've got lawyers making sure we're in compliance with every possible rule and regulation. They won't find any reason."

"Then take my word they will _make up_ a reason before long. Don't take this lightly – understand that this is how it starts. Lawful harassment is only the beginning."

"Erik." He reached out to touch his friend's arm. "You lived through terrible times-"

"Don't patronize me."

"-And it colors your perception of _everything _that happens," Charles continued firmly, over him. "Things are different now."

"Are they really? Half your students' own _parents _have disowned them. You can't keep burying your head in the sand!"

"Enough," Charles said. "We've had this talk before. I thank you for the warning, my friend, and I will tell our lawyers to be extra-vigilant in the days ahead. But I will not change my position. Not now."

"Then when? When they make us wear markers, when they separate us into ghettos, or when they cart us away to be killed? When? Eventually it becomes too late."

Charles heaved a sigh. "If, God forbid, _if_ we ever start to see any real signs that you're correct, then I promise I won't close my eyes to them. And I won't stand on my pride – I'll come crawling back to you straight away and admit that you were right. I'll beg on my knees for us to join forces again. Happy?"

Erik protested at once, "You know that's not what I'm after," but in his mind, quite clearly, was: _And anyway you couldn't kneel if you wanted to._

Charles's jaw dropped and, seeing that he'd heard, Erik at least had the decency to look horrified.

"Charles-"

"Touché, my friend."

"That was just frustration talking – see?" He did a non-telepath's level best to open his mind for inspection, but Charles had already withdrawn.

"You've become as cold as the metal you work with."

"I didn't mean to-"

"Keep your helmet on next time if you don't mind. _Shaw's _helmet actually, isn't it? Unless you've learnt to make your own."

"Charles, listen-"

"No, I think I've heard enough. Farewell."

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Aww, this one made me sad. Hopefully the next one will be fluffier.**

**Actually, the next one might have to wait a couple days – I've just this moment been seized with an idea for a fic involving elaborate villainous death traps, Charles/Erik teamwork, and plenty of tiedtothetracks!Erik. (Not that I've got him literally tied to railroad tracks – that clearly wouldn't be very effective. But I mean he's in trouble and needs rescue.). It sounds like too much fun not to write, so that's what I'll be doing next. Check back later today for the first installment. I think it'll be called _Blood Diamond, _which should tell you who our enterprising villain is.**

**And thanks again for all your comments and ideas! I love it love it love it.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: And we're back, after that short detour into Emma Frost Land. **

**Now this one is SLASH. It's not graphic, it's dialog only, it's tame and silly. But if you're a hardcore anti-slash person, you might want to steer clear.**

**Takes place during Charles & Erik's Epic Recruitment Trip.**

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><p>"No… still no good. It's not just stalled, my friend, it's completely dead. Damn. Well… I guess you're up."<p>

"Me?"

"I'm afraid the power of mind control does not extend to cars. So unless you want to spend the night in the middle of a desert…"

"We're fifty miles from the nearest town."

"So?"

"So I'm not dragging a car fifty miles! I don't think I could if I wanted to. Especially not now, at midnight, when I'm tired and hungry."

"Fine, then let's open the hood and see what's the matter. Maybe you can just fix it."

"Have you ever looked under the hood of a car?"

"Oh… No."

"Me neither. I don't even know what it's supposed to look like. I suppose I could just tie all the pipes and things in knots and see what happens…"

"Very amusing."

"Or, we could skip that step, and just climb out of this tiny, smelly, miserable little vehicle and sleep outside. Yes?"

"Fine."

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><p>"Erik… still awake?"<p>

"Of course I'm still awake; I'm freezing and you're hogging the whole coat. What do you want?"

"I was just thinking: there's an upside to being stuck out here tonight."

"Oh?"

"There is. The other night in the hotel, I had to _exhaust _myself tampering with the minds of everybody on our floor. We made so much noise people thought you were killing someone."

"Mm. I think I almost was."

"Oh no no, I was quite comfortable. Really."

"Of course."

"Anyway… there's no one out here tonight. So why don't you just lie back – and make as much noise as you want."

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><p>"<em>AAAAAAAAAAAH!<em> Ah-… oh. Oh god oh. Oh god. Charles- oh god."

"Well. That was interesting. I don't think I've ever sucked anyone to death before."

"Oh my god. My _god._ What did you _do_ to me? You were inside my head and when you-… oh god. That was…"

"Mm. Glad you liked it. Just relax a moment, catch your breath. There. Lie down."

"Oh god."

"Rest."

"Charles… we're sitting on a gold mine."

"_! ? _Excuse me? I have _never _done it for money, Erik, not-"

"No no no – I mean, _literally_, we are literally sitting on a gold mine. I mean there's actual gold somewhere under the surface here. When you… whatever you did, my powers went haywire and I felt it."

"Oh. Really?"

"Mm-hm."

"Well we _are _multitalented, aren't we! We're mutants, secret agents… and now goldminers too. Heh. Bring some of it up."

"… Ah, I can't. It's too far down. I only felt it because you were… you know. Whatever you were doing."

"Mmm. I suppose I could do… whatever I was doing… again."

"Oh god no. Charles- no no no. Stop it-… oh- _pff_… _mnnnn_!"

"Make whatever noise you like; don't be shy."

"_AH! _Oh please-… please don't. Stop."

"You mean please don't stop, or please don't; stop?"

"Oh god – not funny- _Aah_!"

"Please don't stop what? This?"

"_AAAAA!-"_

"-?"

"No- wait! No no no, don't _actually _stop! Charles? Get back here- what are you-?"

"Look!"

"Look at _what_? For god's sake come back here and finish what you started – or I might _actually_ die. Look at what?"

"The car. Erik, you fixed the car! We won't have to sleep out here after all."

"Dear god. I promise I don't care about the car right now, Charles. Not even a little bit."

"All right, all right. I'm coming. Just try not to destroy the car completely… when I do… _this_."

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Sheesh, I don't know where this thing came from. *blushes*. Sorry, sorry. Next one will be normal again. **

**Actually, what I'll probably post next is a separate story, a oneshot scene of Shaw and Erik in the camp. Compared to what's shown in the movie it's only minimally disturbing.**

**But after _that,_ I'll start posting on this again, and they'll be normal.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Again, thank you guys so much for the comments! I'm glad you're enjoying. This one is less fun than the previous one though. Sorry!**

**Takes place a couple of years after First Class.**

* * *

><p>They're in a cemetery. A normal, ordinary, packed cemetery because, after serious thought, Charles doesn't think it's a good idea to start a separate cemetery for mutants somewhere. That will only suggest to the kids that more will die.<p>

Besides, George loved fitting in, loved humans, loved _normal_… he would have wanted it this way.

While the coffin is being lowered Charles hears a soft _pop_ from the trees beyond the cemetery. As if a flashbulb is going off.

But he knows immediately it's not a flashbulb.

None of the new kids will know what the sound means, but he glances to Hank and sees him sniffing the air, tight and alert. Alex, too, has noticed; grief has been put aside for the moment and his fists are clenched and he's moving closer to the kids at his left, as though to protect them.

Charles reaches out with his mind but feels nothing; the teleporter is gone and hasn't brought anyone else with him. The only person he _has _brought is blocked – and Charles would know that block anywhere.

He waits, tense, but the priest drones on and nothing terrifying materializes from out of the trees. So he manages to wait out the ceremony before going to investigate. "Alex, take everyone home," he says quietly. "Hank: will you push me?"

"It's Erik. I smell him."

"I know – but he's alone. I'll talk to him."

Hank takes him to the edge of the trees and yes, there is Erik – dressed like some kind of bizarre space captain. And trailing a red cape.

One look at his face tells Charles that this is not a good time to remind him that you're supposed to show up to funerals in a plain dark suit. But he doesn't look _violent_, exactly, and so Charles speaks into Hank's mind. _If he planned to attack us he'd have done it already. I'll talk to him alone – go wait by the grave site, please._

"I don't want to leave you," Hank answers aloud. "Not with _him._"

"It's all right. Go."

Only once Hank is gone does Erik unfreeze himself. He goes down on one knee by Charles's chair and says to him, growling it from under his helmet: "Why didn't you call me?"

It is not the greeting Charles was expecting. "What?"

"Why didn't you call me!" Erik repeats, almost snarling. "I could have stopped them. I would have torn them limb from limb for daring to even _think _of violence against your school."

"Erik," Charles begins gently. This is a funeral, he plans to say. It's not the time for political speeches.

But Erik doesn't wait that long. "Or is _that _why?" he presses. "You didn't call me because you _knew_ what I would do. Because their lives – stupid, pointless human lives – are worth more to you than the lives of your own students. Is that it? It's-"

Charles silences him with a right hook. One of the handful of benefits that comes of a wheelchair is fantastic upper body strength, and Erik sprawls facefirst into the dirt. It takes him a while to rise, and when he does the growl is gone from his voice. "I shouldn't have said that," he admits quietly.

"For your information, I would do the same things for the students that you would," Charles tells him. He clears his throat but still his voice shakes. "I killed four people that night – I _killed _people, Erik – and the only reason it didn't make the news is I wiped the minds of the survivors so they had no idea what happened or who it happened to. As soon as their supervisors read their blank reports and figure out who's missing they will put two and two together, and they'll return."

Erik looked down at the ground. "Why are you telling me this? Are you going to let me come home with you? I can help defend the place. I swear they won't get near you with guns or cars again."

"No." Charles sighed. "In an all-out pitched battle over the school, people will die – humans _and _mutants. And in the long run we have no chance; we're full of children and even assuming you and I could keep any soldiers or weapons away, we have no defense against a siege." He took a long, slow breath. Spelling it out to Erik helped, and now the decision he and Hank made last night feels correct and inevitable. "We're going to have to leave. And quickly."

Erik still doesn't look up from his feet. "Fine. Then still, let me help you. With me you can save what would be most difficult to replace – I can move Cerebro with a wave of my hand."

After a long moment Charles nods. The ground is muddy and uneven and he doesn't feel like trying to navigate it alone, so he says: "Would you mind pushing me back over there? Otherwise I'll have to holler for Hank, and I hate doing that. He's not a puppy."

"Of course." Erik's voice is thick again. Safe behind the wheelchair, where he can't be seen, he finally says: "Charles, you haven't asked me to take off my helmet."

Charles doesn't know what he's supposed to say to that.

Eventually Erik manages to continue: "You could. We're not enemies."

"I know that."

"Then… then _why didn't you call me_?" he growls. "Did you think I wouldn't come? Of _course_ I would come, you know I love that place, all of you, that I would never refuse just because we… Charles, _why?_"

This is going to hurt, Charles knows, but he can't think of a persuasive lie. So he tells the truth. "You didn't even occur to me." Erik chokes but can't find words, and Charles persists gently: "We're a long time away from three years ago, Erik. Things have changed."

* * *

><p><strong>The End(?)<strong>

**This one really wants to become its own multichapter fic. I don't know. What would happen is they clear out the mansion and go into hiding, while Erik masterminds a plot using the awesome skillz of Mystique and Charles to erase all physical and mental traces of the botched government incursion, so that the school can set up shop again. It would be fun to write because we'd get some friendship-rebuilding for Charles and Erik, and some territorial!Hank who resents giving up any of his right-hand-man status to a traitor. Dunno. It might evolve into its own fic, or instead I might _finally_ post my dentist thing, which has turned a shade cracky once I finally got Erik into the chair. _I'm honored by your confidence in me, my friend, but no: I'm not going to tamper with someone while he's operating an electric drill inside your mouth._**

**Anyway, so… let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This got so long! I even cut out the middle section, during which Erik had a talk with a little girl in the waiting room who wanted to know how come a grownup is afraid of the dentist... and it's _still _long.**

* * *

><p>"This is not necessary," Erik said. Again.<p>

Charles was staying scrupulously out of his mind as requested, but surely one didn't need telepathy to sense his agitation. His wouldn't make small talk, he'd been staring out the car window for the whole trip, and his trusty coin had glued itself to his palm.

"It is and you know it, my friend," Charles insisted gently. "You're in pain. And worse," he added, over Erik's attempt to insist that he didn't mind pain, "Think how unattractive it will look when all your teeth rot out. Aside from the inconvenience of not being able to talk or eat."

Teasing, even lightly, took a lot of balls. Damn Charles for daring it – for trusting that it would be tolerated. "_One_ cavity is hardly the same as having _all my teeth rot out_," Erik growled, wishing he could sound more intimidating and less sulky. He felt the coin slide down and he threaded it through his fingers. The familiar exercise calmed him even further, and finally he moved himself from the window to face forwards.

"I'll be with you the whole time," Charles promised – again. "And anyway, remember how we talked about pushing yourself? Stretching your boundaries? Look at this as an opport-"

"If you don't stop being such a professor about it I may turn violent."

Charles shut up and didn't say another word until they had parked and walked up to the door of the dentist's office. There Erik paused and took out a cigarette. Charles sighed. "I'll tell them you're on your way, all right?" he said, and went in.

* * *

><p>After a cigarette... and then another one... Erik managed to walk into the office. He managed the receptionist just fine, and managed walking down the hall into the depths of the dentist's lair. He settled down in the ominous-looking chair and managed not to squirm as it was tilted backwards. The bright light was switched on over his head, and he closed his eyes against it. He heard breathing. He smelled that awful rubber and a gloved hand touched his face. Suddenly it was too much.<p>

"No!" he barked, scrambling to sit up straight. He knocked the tray of instruments aside, _instruments, _sharp and sterile, and flinched away.

"Erik." Charles appeared in the doorway. "Come on, you're safe, it's all right."

He couldn't catch his breath. "I told you to stay in the waiting room."

"And look how well that's working. May I calm you?"

"_No_. Stay out of my head. I'm… I'm fine."

"Of course you are. Nevertheless I think it's best if I stay here." He turned to the woman in the gloves and mask and purred: "It's perfectly all right that I'm in here. In fact, you don't even see or hear me," and then unfroze her.

She seemed surprised to find Erik up and out of his seat. "Sit back down, honey," she said. "I'm just going to clean your teeth and then the doctor will come take a look. And then if you need a filling we'll fix you right up, all right?" After a couple of encouraging nods Erik managed to get himself into the chair. He leaned back and opened his mouth.

Charles said to him: "I'm going to read your mind just so that you can talk to me. I won't spy. All right?"

_Fine. _Erik sucked in a long irritated breath._ I must look ridiculous. I hate that you're seeing this._

Charles, predictably, managed to find a bright side. "I'm glad to hear you worry about looking ridiculous. That's progress – a moment ago you didn't even know what decade you were in."

He attempted to form a growl in his mind, and closed his eyes again. A moment later Charles said, "Ah – wait. She's getting a pick. It'll make a scraping noise. Don't panic."

_Have you frozen her again?_

"Mm-hm. Let me know when you're ready."

_All right, ready._

They inched their way through the woman's work, freezing her every time a panic struck. Erik was just starting to think this was working and everything would be fine, when Charles told him: "Of course I can't do this with the actual dentist, though. I'm not going to muck around with someone who's operating an electric drill inside your mouth."

_Yes, you are. Unless you want the drill to leap out of his hand and attack someone… yes you are._

They mentally bickered about it while the woman left and was replaced by the dentist. Erik thought maybe he was winning the argument, but then, it turned out not to matter – they didn't even make it as far as the electric drill. Because before the drill came a novocaine shot, and the sight of the huge syringe approaching his face was just _too_ terrifying. Erik surged with power and crumpled the needle into a little ball.

"Nice work, my friend." Charles sounded annoyed. Erik was glad; sarcasm was a refreshing change from unnatural bottomless compassion.

_Sorry, Charles._

"No you're not, but that's all right. Quiet. Now, doctor: you dropped the syringe, it's gone, nothing unusual happened about that. Just go get another one. And of course you don't notice me, there's nobody here but you and your patient. Go on."

Erik steeled himself and... two more broken syringes later... managed to take the injection.

Charles sighed and froze the dentist to give them time to regroup. "There. Though, God help us when the actual drill comes out. How about you let him sedate you?"

"No!" Erik said aloud.

"All right, then how about letting _me _sedate you? I can put you out-"

_"No!"_

They stared at each other. Erik wondered if the misery on Charles's face was somehow his own and spilling over... or whether he was really just _that _difficult to deal with. Charles stepped around to the foot of the chair so they could face each other squarely. "Then I'm going to try something else at least. I think I can stop the flashbacks." He put both hands to his head and ordered: "Relax for me, Erik. I'm coming in."

Erik didn't resist – he didn't know how! - and apparently that was permission enough for Charles to come exploring. For a moment bursts of fear and blood and doctors flashed through him and he gasped, but then all at once they faded. Went dark. He waited a moment, not really sure what he was waiting for, but other than a strange sense of heaviness in his mind he now felt nothing.

"Whu-..." The novocaine had started to kick in. Even without tools in his mouth he couldn't talk. _What did you do to me?_ He thought.

"Poked around in your memory system again," Charles murmured. "This time I dimmed the power a bit, muffled the whole thing really, and I'm holding it that way."

_You dimmed my memory system?_

"Yes. You probably couldn't recall half your childhood right now if you tried – so don't try. I'm going to unfreeze the dentist; this is rather too much to do all at once. All right? Erik?"

_You can do that?_

"Apparently. It seems to be working. So... how are you doing? Better?"

_You've brainwashed me, and there's a man I don't know preparing to DRILL into my FACE,_ Erik mentally snarled at him.

"So? Is it better?"

Erik stopped clenching his jaw and let the rubber fingers urge him open. "Wider," said the dentist, and he did as he was told. He sucked in his breath as its buzzing started. The sound and the vibrations were intensely unpleasant and he grasped the armrests of his chair with all his strength.

But it was, now, just a dentist. Though he hated to make Charles any smugger than he was already, he supposed there was no point lying to a telepath. _Yes, it's better. _

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>

Heh. Prickly!Erik and nursemaidy!Charles are fun to write.

So I had an interesting thought about Erik's reaction to Charles's use of his powers. A lot of people write things where Erik is creeped out by the high-handed and invasive stuff Charles does daily. And it seems to make sense. I mean, the idea of having your MIND tampered with is actually pretty creepy, right? I think it makes sense to think Erik would not approve of the casual way Charles violates people's privacy and messes with their free will.

On the other hand.

He's all about Being Who You Are and being all proud of your powers and whatever. So, if he's serious about all that, and thinks Mystique should walk around blue all the time, then actually he should have no problem with Charles walking around reading everybody's mind whenever he feels like it. Maybe he would ask Charles as a favor not to do it to _him_ because they're friends and he wouldn't like it, but as a philosophical matter I don't think Erik can consider any of the stuff Charles does to be "abuse" of power. I think it might all be just legitimate use in Erik's book – since Charles is a mutant who _can _do that stuff, why _shouldn't_ he?

What do you guys think about that? Am I totally off base there?

(Also, if you missed it: I put a new story up that's a continuation of last chapter. So I'll be updating there for a while. It's called _The Same Things._)


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This is set around 2005-ish, some evening when Magneto _isn't_ busy formulating huge villainous plans.**

**It's moderately crack.**

* * *

><p>"Hello? Charles Xavier."<p>

"Hello, Charles."

"… Erik?"

"Took you a moment."

"Well it's… it's three AM, if I'm reading the clock right. Forgive me for being a bit disoriented. Is this a social call, in the middle of the night?"

"Do you have the internet at your school, Charles?"

"What?"

"The internet. You know, computers…?"

"The-… of course. Of course, the children love the internet."

"Are you yourself computer-literate, as they say?"

"Me? Yes, I suppose. I've used the things. And I've picked up plenty of information about them from other people too. By this point in my life there's very little I don't know, you know that. Why?"

"So modest. Well, because I was recently introduced to something called Facebook. Know what that is?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"It's my favorite, closely followed by something called _Fuck My Life, _if you'll pardon the language. In any case. Having now spent the past four days peeking in on the lives of people I don't know, I feel I owe you an apology. Ahem: I was terribly wrong to have dragged you from Cerebro all those times and insisted that you come down to dinner. Now that I understand the intoxicating pleasure of what you were doing, I see I should never have disturbed you."

"Are you… making fun of me, Erik?"

"Not at all, old friend. Not at all. I am well and truly addicted – I haven't left my desk once in the past forty-eight hours, and really, if you don't count the times I've dozed off and landed on the floor, I haven't left it at all since Thursday."

"Since… Erik… have you actually been playing on the internet for four days straight?"

"Mm-hm!"

"That's nothing to be proud of, my friend. Ah, I hear you clicking! Stop it – turn the computer off and go to bed."

"No."

"Four days? ! Are you eating?"

"Not much."

"And I won't even ask how…"

"Pissing into a garbage can and floating it down the hall."

"Ah. You always were very resourceful."

"Indeed."

"Go to bed, Erik."

"Are you trying to set curfew for me, Charles? I'm not one of your students."

"Clearly. Or your computer would be turned off at eleven like everyone else's. Go to sleep. Or at least hang up and let _me _sleep – you can call back in the morning."

"No I can't. In the morning I'll feel too ridiculous."

"Well… hang up anyway."

"If you insist. Goodnight, Charles."

"Goodnight."

* * *

><p>"Yes?"<p>

"It's Erik again."

"Yes, I assumed it would be. I thought I told you ten minutes ago to go to bed."

"Mm. Sorry to wake you, but there's something I forgot to tell you a moment ago."

"I hope it's important."

"Oh, it's of the utmost importance."

"Well? What?"

"This: if you _do _get a Facebook page sometime, you can be my friend."

"Go to bed, Erik."

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**I kind of like the idea that Charles was basically the world's first facebook-stalker. He was doing it before there was even facebook.**


	12. Chapter 12

**By the way, once again: thank you guys for the wonderful comments! I can't even tell you how psyched they make me. Glad you're enjoying so far.**

**Takes place some time after First Class**

* * *

><p>The buzzer rang during dinner. Hank looked down the huge length of the table and offered, "I'll get it. Who's there?"<p>

Charles closed his eyes and reached, but the mind on the doorstep was just a smooth blank wall.

_Nobody_ could close his mind that way. Except of course…

"Actually, Hank, I've got it this time," Charles said as calmly as he could. No need to panic the children. "It's for me."

He left the table and piloted his chair through the house as fast as he could safely control it, and pulled up sharp in front of the door just as it was opening itself.

"Thanks for your patience." He glared. "Did you damage the lock, or just open it?"

"Opened." Erik scowled at him from under the helmet. "You know I wouldn't damage your house for no reason. Listen, I have a favor to ask you. It's very important, an emergency. May I come in?"

Charles wasn't quite rude enough to keep blocking the doorway, but he let Erik past with only the coldest of nods.

It seemed Erik wasn't in the mood for pleasantries either. "I need you to locate someone with Cerebro for me," he said at once. "A teleporter. Can you do that?"

Charles raised his eyebrows. "You've lost track of your teleporter? I'm not going to help you _stalk _Azazel, Erik, that's not what Cerebro is for. If he left you I'm sure he had-"

"It's not Azazel. Charles, please." Before he could ask questions, Erik pressed: "I'll explain later but please – I am begging you to do this. Now. It is an emergency."

Erik sounded quite desperate, emotional even, and Charles was suddenly disgusted at himself for letting anger get in the way. "Of course. Come with me. You might have to take the helmet off a moment though, to show me who I'm looking for…"

Erik went ahead of him and didn't answer. While they waited for the elevator he wrapped himself tightly in his cape, clutching it around him, and in an effort to relax him a little Charles observed (accurately): "You look like a refugee from a downed spaceship." When Erik didn't even crack a smile he sighed and reached out to squeeze his arm. "Honestly, Erik – there's nothing to worry about. We'll find your teleporter."

But Erik couldn't even hold still. "_Hurry_," he said, shifting from foot to foot. "He could be anywhere. Anything could…"

"Calm yourself. Agitation won't help me focus." Erik grew no calmer. So Charles said, with a little more force: "Listen, I'm _good_ at this. I promise everything will be fine. Look at me." He couldn't use telepathy because of the damned helmet, but he was sure that if Erik just made eye contact he could reduce his panic at least a little.

But Erik wouldn't look, and in the elevator Charles gave up talking to him and instead occupied himself with trying to guess at the nature of this emergency. What could have Erik worried this badly? Perhaps some teleporter had gone awry, planning to do something insane in the public spotlight and bring hatred down on all mutants. Appear on the floor of the Senate with tentacles and evil laughter… assassinate the President maybe… Something bizarre.

Erik was silent the whole way, but once they were inside Cerebro, waiting for it to boot up, Charles insisted. "I need to know more, or I won't be able to find him. Is it even a _him?_ What does he look like, what might he be thinking of, where does he like to spend his time? You have to tell me _something_, my friend, or how am I supposed to distinguish him from all the other millions of people I make contact with?"

Erik hesitated. "He's a teleporter, and he's not Azazel. Isn't that enough?"

"Unless he's actively teleporting at the moment I look for him… no, it probably won't be. Erik…?"

Erik turned his back, gripping the railing and bowing his head. "Very well. Please just find him first. You can kill me afterwards."

"I can…?"

"We should have told you, I admit we should have told you, but again: kill me afterwards. First just find him." Erik took a deep breath and then said it fast. "His name is Kurt, he's eighteen months old, he's blue, and he'll call you uncle."

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**I have a whole big headcanon for where Nightcrawler came from, if you're interested. It's sort of dismal – Mystique interprets Erik's rants about mutants' superior genetics to mean she should get herself knocked up by a mutant as soon as possible. Azazel's game. But when Erik finds out, he is totally repulsed by what she's done and furious that Azazel went along with it. Mystique is furious in her turn, at herself for misunderstanding and stupidly giving it up to somebody she doesn't like, at Azazel for banging her instead of talking sense into her, at Erik for his totally paternalistic response, and at the baby because it turns out she really doesn't like babies. So… yeah, Nightcrawler's got a pretty dysfunctional house to grow up in. **

**(BTW, I think it's really cute to imagine a little blue baby uncontrollably teleporting himself into cabinets and shit. And the parents are all running around looking for him, like maybe they see his little tail sticking out from under a table or something… awww!)**


	13. Chapter 13

**The mansion seems to already have a bomb shelter and a lab in it... god knows what else is up in there too.**

**Takes place during First Class.**

* * *

><p>"Checkmate." Charles sat back and took a sip of his drink.<p>

Erik frowned at the board, then at the clock. "Let's play one more game," he suggested. "Only this time, let's see what happens if you play fair."

"Play fair?" Charles's eyes were wide and wounded. "I swear to you, Erik, I _have _been playing fair. I would never peek in your mind for your chess strategy; that would be cheating; I would never-"

Erik held up a hand. "Forget I said anything. Let's go to bed, hm? I have an idea for tomorrow, and you'll want to have slept."

* * *

><p>The next morning Erik came down to breakfast in sweatpants. He nodded hello to the others and then told Charles: "When you're ready, I want to go up to the fencing salle."<p>

Alex looked up from his cereal in surprise. "Fencing? Like, swords?"

Erik grinned. "Yes. And by the fact that he has a strip in his home I gather he takes the sport quite seriously."

"I'm afraid not." Charles went back to his eating. "My step-father was a fencer. He gave lessons, actually, good ones… but it never really caught on with me."

Raven spoke up. "Liar. You were great when you were a kid. Erik… were you?"

"I learned at university. I was all right." He squared up and crossed his arms. "Good enough to beat a retired professor, anyway…"

Charles matched his grin. "My friend, you're on."

* * *

><p>"If you don't mind my asking," Charles said on the way up the stairs, "Why fencing? I would have thought it'd be difficult for you, what with all the banging and stabbing and shouting."<p>

"That's precisely why," Erik explained without hesitation. "When I first… lived among people again, I was flinching away every time someone approached me with a pen or a fork or something. I had to get over that."

And rather than find a friend who could ease him slowly into normal human contact, Erik had decided to solve the problem by joining a sport where people attacked him with swords and shouted in his face.

Typical bloody Erik.

"I don't need to be a telepath to feel you disapproving," Erik growled, but good-naturedly. "It worked, all right?" He pushed the door open and looked around. "Now where do you keep the weapons?"

"Can't you find them?" Charles teased.

Erik stretched his hand out and closed his eyes. "There," he said before long, and pointed to a tall cabinet along one wall. "And the masks are in that one."

"Impressive." Charles unlocked it.

He moved to pick a weapon, but Erik sighed from behind him. "Not foils. I hate foil."

So, against his better judgment, he got down a pair of epees. "All right, but Erik, I'm a terrible epee fencer, and you're probably going to literally kill me with this."

"I've always liked epee bruises," Erik murmured, gripping the weapon, flicking it once or twice. "The range of color is fantastic."

Something about his tone was making Charles a little nervous. "Whites are over in that wardrobe – and don't tell me we don't need them. We are wearing full protective equipment of every type."

They jogged and stretched, still chatting, and then suited up – in the same dressing room, with Charles turning his back self-consciously and Erik just stripping down without a thought.

Finally they got on the strip, but at the last second Charles suggested: "Let me warm up my hand a bit first, all right?"

Erik came closer and got en guarde, offering his blade for Charles to play with.

Touches to the wrist, beats, touches to the body. Touches to the thigh, binds, touches inside the elbow. It had been a few years and he was sloppy and he'd never been wonderful at epee to begin with, but the gist was there and before long it started to feel smoother.

"All right, your turn," he offered.

For a moment he thought Erik would insist he didn't need a warmup, but then, after a quick shrug Erik tapped his blade a few times and then went through the same series of exercises – not quite as neatly, but he was competent. "All right, let's fence a few touches."

Charles nodded and stood on his en guarde line. Erik stood on his. They saluted.

Not that it would be necessary for a few playful touches between friends, but Charles started them off properly: "_En guarde… prêt… allez."_

Erik was more graceful than Charles had expected. He'd anticipated the usual bouncing of a tall university fencer without much experience, but instead, Erik seemed almost to glide. His rhythm was too predictable though; it would be pitifully easy to take his blade the second he got near enough.

Fully confident in that, Charles closed the distance.

But the moment their blades touched, his was flung wild, out of his control, and before he could get it back on target Erik had hit him in the leg – hard.

"One, zero," Erik said coolly.

Charles never really considered himself competitive by nature and thought he didn't mind losing, but cheating annoyed him hard. "That's very amusing, my friend. Care to do it again a few times – or can we actually fence now?"

"Fine, fine. Fence." But Erik hardly behaved for two seconds; as soon as they got close again Charles's epee went haywire. It pointed straight up at the ceiling, useless, and Erik thrust into his chest hard enough to make him cough. "Two, zero."

Charles took his mask off. "Erik."

Erik didn't. "I want you to play fair, Charles."

"_What?_"

"I find it incredibly disrespectful that you won't try your best against me in anything we do."

Charles had to laugh. "You seriously think you could beat me – at anything – if I use mind control against you?"

"Good lord, you are arrogant." Erik sounded amused, but there was some steel in his voice too. "Put your mask back on – I can't in good conscience hit you while you're not wearing it, and I really want to hit you."

"Very well, my friend, but just remember: you asked for this." Charles wiped his forehead – any room becomes stifling in a full set of fencing whites – and settled his mask back over his face.

"_En guarde._" Erik was taking over this time. "_Prêt… allez._"

He blasted his mind at Erik fast, but without standing still and putting his hand to his temple it turned out he had very little control. He managed to jolt hard enough to still him for a moment, but he couldn't quite get inside and thus couldn't freeze him entirely. When he tried to capitalize on Erik's small hesitation to score, Erik freed himself in time and turned the point away.

This, at least, was more fair. Charles opened up distance and pondered his next move. They felt each other out, and over time he noticed that in the moment when Erik used his powers his mind was fully focused – and therefore probably not very well-defended. That might be the best chance he had; in the middle of a fencing match he wasn't going to manage anything much fancier than toppling a mind that wasn't ready.

He wondered what Erik was planning next. He reached out to spy, but discovered that Erik's brain was full of nonsense, lines of nursery rhymes, and he couldn't quite see below them. _Very clever,_ he growled. It had to be too loud for comfort, but Erik didn't protest.

Before long Charles felt the shift as Erik gathered himself, and sure enough, his blade suddenly dragged itself down, leaving him fully unprotected as Erik advanced.

_Stop_, he ordered, concentrating hard, and this time it worked. He was in; Erik was stuck.

He took a step forward – an exhausting step, as his epee still seemed determined to weigh a thousand pounds. He couldn't quite raise it, but one more advance pressed it against Erik's, and then the trick seemed to spread to both blades and their tips brushed the ground at the same time.

_There; how do **you** like it!_ he laughed into Erik's mind, and he caught a flash of annoyance, and Erik left off using his powers in favor of trying to oust Charles with an enormously loud mental scream.

Surprised by the sharp pain, Charles withdrew fast. Erik's blade came up and so did his, and before either of them had time to try their powers again his fencing training took over: a beat, a short sharp feint and disengage, and he stuck the point into Erik's elbow with bruising force.

"Damn it!" Erik was breathing hard. "You're quick. You really were a good fencer, weren't you."

"This isn't fencing."

"No – it's better."

Charles didn't argue with him.

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Now that I've finished my kid!erik story I can get back to this and to _The Same Things_, which unexpectedly turned angsty on me. I'm trying to fix that; I really didn't want to write angst there. I'll get it up soon...**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Okay, so this is kinda… weird. I have no idea where this came from. It's basically oldguy preslash. I can honestly say I never imagined I'd be writing this. Or that Erik would be so inhibited.**

**Takes place sometime in the X1-X3 era.**

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><p>Erik rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully. Charles didn't disturb him… and in fact, might even have been helping a bit; the noise of the park around them seemed to have disappeared for him, leaving him quiet to think in.<p>

Their chess games had gotten slower and slower over the years, but no less exciting. He frowned at the board. Damn Charles for still, somehow, at this late date managing to surprise him.

His thinking was interrupted by a piercing shriek and he jumped. He whipped around to see what was the matter…

But it was nothing – just a too-thin young man in too-big sunglasses who was holding his arms out and shrieking in delight as another young man ran into them. Erik scowled at them for their noise, but they didn't appear to even notice – they were too busy hugging and kissing and carrying on.

He heaved a sigh and turned back to the chessboard. "Kids these days."

They both laughed. Charles watched the young men over Erik's shoulder, followed with his eyes as they made their way to a bench with their arms wrapped around each other's waists. "It's a brave new world, old friend."

"Mm." Erik took another peek and felt very old. "That would never have happened in our day."

"Indeed. Fortunately things have changed, in so many ways. Ah, they're looking at us." He nodded politely and then turned his attention back to Erik. "Go on."

But Erik had been too far distracted from the game to make a move now. He stared down at the board, centering pieces within their squares, and said, "You know, Charles… when we were younger…" And that was as far as he was prepared to go.

But Charles chuckled softly, and without hesitation or surprise teased: "Only when we were younger?"

That, Erik had not been expecting. He recoiled. He very nearly left his seat. At the last second he managed to govern the impulse and stayed put, staring determinedly off to the side. "You knew?" His voice was harsh.

"Erik-… Erik, no." Charles leaned all the way forward to tug on his sleeve. "Don't be upset. I never _knew _anything, and I would certainly never violate your privacy by trying to find out. Please. Look at me."

Erik looked hard into his eyes, silently demanding an explanation, and Charles finally went on: "A few looks you've given me over the years, that's all, the way you've said my name. Or sometimes when we touch. Most men don't touch at all, you know."

Erik looked down and realized that his hand was still on the table and Charles's hand was resting on top of it. A common, familiar contact between them… and one which apparently said…

He pulled free, feeling the heat of anger in his cheeks. He couldn't even _remember _the last time he'd felt this exposed. Or this stupid. He was about to get up and go when Charles sighed and said: "Erik? May I show you something – please?"

It wasn't Charles's fault he was an idiot. He nodded stiffly, and didn't move away when Charles wheeled around the table to him. "Look."

Erik was pulled into a memory, an old memory. A hotel bathroom. He recognized it before long as one of the filthy little motels they'd shared on their glorious recruitment trip, right after they'd met, when they were both still young and driven and hopeful. The setting alone was almost too much to bear. But then he nudged the bathroom door open and peeked out. He saw himself – younger, much younger, beautifully muscled back then – still asleep and snoring. _I do not snore,_ he thought firmly, and felt Charles chuckle from somewhere. _I'm afraid you do, my friend; you snore like a bear._

Then he turned back into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Charles, standing, all pink and dripping after a shower. He had a towel around his hips but that didn't help much; his eyelashes were long and his lips pouty and the smile he gave himself was positively indecent.

Erik yanked himself out and refused to make eye contact, but he knew it was too late – Charles was a telepath; you couldn't hide your reactions from him. Damn him for-…

"Erik. Look at me, old friend." Charles's voice was gentle and amused. "I'm flattered – and more. As you see there have been many times I've thought of you in the same way. Sometimes I still do."

"_What_?" The fact itself was not entirely unexpected; in liquor there is truth and Charles had gotten quite handsy a few times when drunk. What Erik had never imagined was him admitting it aloud – and sober, and forty years too late.

"Yes." Charles sighed. "It took me some time to catch up to myself… and by the time I did, things were… different between us. The moment never quite seemed right." Fair enough. They were always too busy trying to damage and sabotage one another. "But it does now. Would you kiss me?"

"_What_?"

"We've been many things to one another, Erik. Allies and enemies… teachers, saviors, albatrosses and friends…"

"And now for some reason you think we should become lovers too." Erik snorted. He couldn't believe this. He was getting romanced by Charles Xavier, practically in his dotage, in the middle of Central Park on a Saturday afternoon.

"For your information, most people think we already _are _lovers. And all I was asking for was a kiss." Charles shrugged. "Never mind, then. Forget I said anything."

"I'll do nothing of the kind and don't you dare make me," Erik said breathlessly. "My memories are my own. Even the-… bizarre ones." Bizarre or not, he sensed that this was an opportunity he would not have again… and he might well regret passing it up. He reached out and determinedly took Charles's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Do you honestly want to be kissed? By me?"

"Yes, I think I do."

So Erik slid out of his chair and put one knee down on the ground. He put his free hand to Charles's face, tilted it, and kissed him.

For a moment it was just lips, but then the touch of Charles's mind washed over him and at once it felt familiar, natural, as if this was something they had been doing every day for the past forty years.

_Maybe we should have,_ Charles thought at him. His mouth was open, encouraging Erik to take, and if Erik had ever imagined kissing Charles this was exactly what he would have imagined it to feel like.

After a bit Charles pulled back. He placed a hand on Erik's neck, holding him still, before thinking: _Don't look now, old friend, but we're being watched._

"What-" Erik started, but wasn't allowed to pull away.

"Shh. It's all right." Charles was smiling. "The blond just told his boyfriend: _I told you they're an item. _They think we're sweet."

Erik peeked over at the young men, who were sitting twined up on the bench together pretending to look at something else. The blond was getting his hair pet. "I should go over there and teach them to mind their own business," he growled. He wasn't yet regretting kissing his best friend, but he'd already begun to wish they hadn't done it in public.

"Sh-sh." Charles gestured for silence. His gaze was distant. "Let me listen." After a moment he laughed softly. "Oh, dear. One just said _maybe that'll be us in a hundred years. _Do we really look a hundred?"

Erik huffed. "That's it. Now I'm really going to-"

"Oh-… This is priceless." Charles put a hand on his arm and leaned close. "They're thinking we must have the secret to making a longterm romance work out."

Erik had to laugh. "Well, we know that guns and helmets are not the way. And that abduction rarely achieves its desired results. Does that qualify as a secret, do you think?"

"And they're joking about coming over to ask us for relationship advice."

Relationship. Erik noticed that Charles's hand was still on his arm and they were still close enough to feel each other's breath. The closeness was entirely pleasant. He glanced once more over to the young couple, who had started necking again, and then looked into Charles's eyes. "Perhaps we should go over and ask advice of _them_." He was fully prepared to laugh it off if he had to.

But Charles didn't say anything to make him think that retraction was necessary. He raised Erik's hand to his lips for a moment and flooded his mind with something warm and welcoming. Then he pulled away and wheeled himself back to his side of the chessboard.

"It's your move, Erik."

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**So… they finally sort of ask each other out, when they're old. Awwww.**

**I have a short ficlet in mind for the human-seatbelt-on-crashing-plane thing. That should be up next...**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Okay, I lied – this isn't the plane-crashing thing. But it was stuck harder in my head, so it got written first. Charles is really interesting when he's prickly and angry.**

**Takes place sometime after First Class. **

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><p>Attempted reconciliation #6.<p>

Erik fidgeted on the doorstep until at last it opened. Azazel tensed beside him…

But it was only Charles and, for a change, he looked friendly. Perhaps leaving the helmet at home this time was a wise decision.

"Hello, Charles. It's good to see you," he said. He waited, but nothing touched at his mind.

Instead Charles spoke aloud, and just greeted: "Erik. Azazel."

"Social call," Erik promised at once. "I just want to talk. To be honest I miss you. I don't suppose I can come in?"

"Not unless you want Hank or Alex to rip you into pieces," Charles said, a little dreamy. "I'm shielding us now, but this sort of illusion gets very tiring very quickly."

"Then come outside," Erik suggested right away. "We'll take a walk." Poor choice of words. He tried not to wince visibly.

Charles ignored it, and just accompanied him down the front path. Erik made small talk and was encouraged to see that Charles was at least responding, so eventually he took a deep breath and played his hand. "My telepath tells me you've reached out to me a few times?" he said. "I mostly wear the helmet during the day, so I didn't know."

This was a lie, she had in fact said the opposite, but Erik didn't care. He _knew_ Charles must be reaching out to him, missing him in moments of weakness… he was mortally _certain_ that Charles had valued their friendship as much as he had. Emma was just a stubborn vindictive bitch to keep insisting otherwise.

He waited to see whether Charles would admit it or not. Charles rode on in silence for a moment, then turned to face him head-on. "Your telepath," he repeated without inflection. Before Erik could understand his mistake, much less retract it, Charles's fingers were to his temple.

Azazel closed the distance to his boss in two sharp steps and cold-cocked him. Erik stumbled and then stared without comprehension, until Azazel droned: "_This _telepath doesn't care to be objectified, and it isn't going to reach out to you again."

"Snap out of it," Erik snarled, and shoved him. "Charles?" He looked past, but Charles was already halfway back to the house. The chair had some speed on it.

He reached out to drag it back, but Charles spoke directly into his mind. _Nope. All plastic._

Erik watched him go. He told himself that Charles had as good as admitted that he _did _still call to him once in awhile though. That had to be worth something.

* * *

><p>The End.<p>

Poor Erik. I could *so* see him deciding they HAD to make up and refusing to take no for an answer.

And poor Charles - I think people really do that to him a lot, and he can always hear it.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: So I watched X2 the other day and was really struck by how much more awesome Magneto looks when he's running around doing magneto-things vs when he's in jail. Enter this fic. It attacked my brain so hard during the night that I got up at 6AM today to write it. If there are typos, that's why.**

**Takes place during Charles's first visit to plasticland. Slight AU, I guess.**

* * *

><p>Erik had aged twenty years in the course of a couple of weeks. It wasn't just that bland ugly hospital whites had replaced his imposing (though equally ugly) cloak-and-helmet getup. It wasn't just that the artificial lights had robbed him of his color and the confinement of his muscle. It was more than that – different, and worse. His eyes were dull and sunken. His movements were sluggish.<p>

"Erik-" Charles stopped himself fast; no doubt their conversations were being recorded. He'd had a hard enough time getting this visit, and if they thought he was a troublemaker he would never get another one. "I hear you have a chess set. Fancy a game?" he said aloud, and sent his _real _message straight to Erik's mind. _Are they drugging you?_

Erik looked at him for a long moment, and finally answered him in the same bright, easy tone. "Certainly, Charles – let's play." _No._

_Are you sure? _Charles pressed as they sat down at the plastic table and set up their plastic pieces._ Would you like me to check? If there's something wrong with your thinking I should be able to detect it. You don't look well. _

_That's because I'm **not** well, _Erik thought clearly at him. Aloud he elaborated: "I'm incarcerated, Charles. In a room made entirely of plastic." He made a move and waited.

Charles stared. "And that's not… healthy for you," he realized. For the first time.

"Apparently not. But I assure you that as far as incarceration goes men have been subjected to much worse, for much less."

Charles looked to the board then, mostly to avoid Erik's eyes. He felt sick – how on earth had this not occurred to him? He knew that Erik's mutation was an integral part of him, that his "affinity for metal," as his file called it, was like his affinity for air. How had he failed to take that into account? The ignorant, frightened humans thought of Erik's power as a dangerous party trick and treated it as such; the simple solution in their minds was to build him a prison where he wouldn't be able to perform it.

But Charles knew better. Or should have. That _affinity _was what Erik was. When the human government came to him for help, how in God's name could he have been so thoughtless? This was a torture chamber designed just for Erik and _he had helped create it._

"It's your move," Erik prompted aloud, after some time had passed.

Charles nodded and tried to execute the familiar exchange of pawns between them; if someone who watched the tapes knew anything about chess they would know that this was no time for him to be hesitating.

But as soon as he reached a reasonable place to pause, he sat back. He still couldn't make eye contact and it was only with difficulty that he kept his breathing under control. _Erik, I didn't know._

The thought was so powerful, so heavy with emotion, that Erik drew back in surprise. "Didn't know what?" he said aloud.

Instead of trying to articulate through his upset he just opened his mind and poured out a wave of horror and guilt. Erik frowned, obviously not able to sort it out, so he sent: _The way you are being starved, old friend – I swear to you I didn't know, didn't think of it. This is inhumane._

"Ah." Erik's eyes crinkled with amusement. "And here I thought it was all your idea. To keep me manageable." _Or as near to it as possible._

"Erik-…" His voice broke and he had to just think the rest. _How could you think that of me? How could you?_

"Charles." Erik leaned forward and covered Charles's hand with his own. "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough earlier. _I _have endured much worse than this place, for much longer, and for no reason at all." His free hand twitched and Charles glanced down at the ink on his arm. That something he had done could raise _that _specter in Erik's thoughts was more than he could bear. He tried to pull away but Erik wouldn't let him. _Stop worrying. The deprivation is hard, yes, but I can survive it, _Erik insisted firmly. _And when I escape… not **if**, Charles, but **when**…then I will be well again._

Charles took in all the new lines on his face. _I don't know that I can wait that long, old friend._

At that, Erik released his hand and sat back in his chair, laughing aloud. _Well are you planning to help me escape?_

_No. _Charles answered at once. _I can't. I can't do that, but Erik, I'll do something._

"Oh?"

He didn't have to think long. _Yes. I'm willing to bring metal past the guards for you – and tamper with them so that they don't take it from you. Any metal you want, provided you swear to me you will only keep it for your health. Not to harm anybody with, and not to escape._ He looked into Erik's eyes and said: "I would trust you that much, Erik."

Erik snorted. "I wouldn't." His smile was sad. "Charles, I'm strong, but I'm not _that_ strong. Please don't offer me that again." _I might take you up on it – and then where would that leave us?_

Charles looked down at the chess board and realized that somehow the game was nearly over. Had he even played? Or had Erik done the whole thing when he wasn't looking?

_Erik I am so, so sorry,_ he sent – again. As if that could change anything.

"Enough. I forgive you," Erik said aloud. Impatient. "I'd forgive you anything, you know that." He looked out and waved for his guards' attention, and beckoned for them to open the walkway. "Go home, Charles. Thank you for coming – and I'll see you again." He smiled, and even in his exhaustion a bit of shark shone through. _With any luck it will be on friendlier ground._

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Gah – I'm even sadder when they're *nice* to each other than when they fight. ****Next time MUST be something light and cute instead.**

**Let me know what you think! I'm so glad you guys are still here; I'm taking the Bar in a couple of days (the humongous test that makes human beings into lawyers) and I've been studying for it all summer to the point where I often haven't left my apartment for days at a time. So, this fandom is what is keeping me sane. For a given value of sane.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Takes place during First Class. Plane crash!**

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><p>"Take my hand!" Charles shouts, and Erik's first response is to laugh. As if he would be safer hanging on to Charles's skinny little arm than securely plastered to tons – <em>tons<em> – of strong, obedient metal.

He does entertain the idea for a moment, though. He was a boy once after all, and he knows that hauling your best friend to safety by the sheer strength of your grip is an adrenaline rush very little else can equal. Sanity prevails, though, and he turns away from Charles to hug more tightly the landing gear he's standing on. Not that he _needs _to; he could hang on with no hands if he wanted, but there's no reason to show off.

Then Charles screams _ERIK _into his mind and _orders _him to come in. Erik finds himself obeying, and he's annoyed because they've talked about this and Charles knows he doesn't like being made to do things in this way.

_I wasn't going to fall off, _he insists, even as he throws himself up through the hatch. "I know," Charles shouts at him over the wind, but it's not til the plane takes its final nosedive that Erik understands. The landing gear will be crushed to absolute smithereens underneath as the plane hits ground.

He looks over to Charles, meaning maybe to thank him, and realizes they're flipping and Charles has nothing to hold on to. Erik doesn't think, he just automatically dives forward and crushes their bodies together and grips the plane with Charles held securely underneath him. Since he and Charles total only a few hundred pounds between them this should be easy… except Charles is panicking, screaming at the top of his lungs directly into Erik's ear and, worse, into his mind.

Then Erik is screaming too; his world is awash in bright white agony and it's all he can do to keep concentrating on the surface underneath his hands. Metal. He holds on to it, pulls it to him, tries to believe that the pain will just stop if he can just hang on for a little bit longer.

When the plane finally settles Charles calms down. Clearly he doesn't realize what he's done; he goes silent without apologizing, and just lays limp with his arm around Erik's neck, trying to catch his breath.

Erik lowers them gently to the ground. His first impulse is to box Charles's ears and bellow _HOW DO YOU LIKE IT_ into them, but he knows that that's childish and would be inadequate anyway. Then once his terrible brainache fades he wants to say _thanks for fetching me up, _but he decides not to because he doesn't want Charles to start thinking it's all right to make him do things. He feels nervous enough around Charles already.

Nervous, and awed. The man's power is so great that a moment of accidental spillover is enough to incapacitate a mutant who can throw submarines around through the air. What can he do with that brain when he's actually _trying_?

Erik laughs softly as they lie on the floor together. Maybe they're about to find out. _Shaw is fucked,_ he tells himself with confidence. But he doesn't say _that_ to Charles either, because he knows Charles doesn't share his excitement about the murder they're about to commit.

So all he does in the end is give Charles a nudge and say: "You scream like a girl. Get off."

(And later on, once he realizes that that was his last chance to talk to Charles, he'll hate himself for it.)

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Likely going to be radio silence for a couple of days. I'll be back from my exam on Thursday. Hopefully I can update then.**

**Let me know what you think!**


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